What Might Have Been
by SexySloth
Summary: "What happens to a dream deferred?"-Langston Hughes SS/HG Enjoy


**AN: I'll see you all at the bottom. This story needs no introduction. Read and REVIEW!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

What Might Have Been

She sat alone, her glass of cut crystal half full of an golden liquid that glinted in the merry firelight coming from the nearby grate. She was a woman of an indiscernible age, caught somewhere in-between thirty and forty, only a few lines 'round her mouth and eyes alluding to her true age. She was closer in years to the latter than she was to the former. Her dress was modest but tasteful, impeccably cut robes in a deep burnished bronze that offset her striking eyes-eyes that were trained on the linen napkin which she'd been fidgeting with for the past ten minutes. It was due to this distraction that she did not hear the approach of a man.

"Hello…" Came the voice. It was familiar. Her amber eyes widened and looked up to meet the dark ones staring down at her. "May I sit," came the formal query?

She started a bit, her hand flying to her throat as if adjusting some invisible bauble and she motioned to the empty seat across from her. They sat like that for several moments, the silence was pervasive-but not strained. Finally she spoke.

"I didn't think you would come." He remained unmoving, his eyes remaining trained on hers, but there was a slight lifting of the corner of his mouth that sent a chill down her spine. It was an expression of amusement, and one she'd rarely seen from him whence last they'd met.

"I wasn't sure I would either."

She grinned in response, the tension broken.

"It's been a long time," she said softly, her fingers toying with the stem of her wine glass. She hadn't touched her sherry, though it was a favorite of hers. Again, there was silence and stillness on his end. He regarded her with something akin to fondness and…regret?

"Indeed…" and he looked as if he were about to continue when the waiter interrupted, asking if Sir would like a libation. "Two fingers of Old Ogden's please, neat," was his terse reply, and the man turned pensive once more.

She sipped and cleared her throat. It seemed to echo, though the establishment was crowded, the patrons raucous. She looked at him then, and seemed to make some sort of decision after a brief war within herself that was only discernible through her eyes. "I've thought of you often." And she left it there…hanging like a dangling participle. The ball was in his court. He nodded slightly, his movements as precise and delicate as they had always been.

"Likewise." He cleared his throat. "I read of your marriage. Congratulations, I believe, are long overdue." She watched him and his eyes grew blank, his stare inscrutable. This was his mask, one that he used when he wanted to hide.

"Yes. It's hard to believe that it's been nearly seventeen years." She smiled slightly and he returned the expression, and then she could no longer hold back. "I waited for you, you know." She couldn't control it then, the tears that had been stuck in her throat crept to her lids and strained against their confines.

He closed his eyes and seemed to hold his breath before he let it out gently, his lids sliding open and returning her imploring gaze. "I know."

She swiped at the offending droplets angrily before she went on. "Why didn't you come back?"

There was a pause, before he responded, his voice held no derision as he spoke: "I would not sully you with my name, Hermione. I spent weeks going over and over every possibility in my head…and," he breathed, his voice catching his his throat, "When it was all clear to me, it was too late. I read of your marriage upon my return to Britain." He smiled ruefully as she cried, tears unbidden now. "You looked lovely at your wedding."

She gasped at this and her hand flew to her neck once more, the fingers ghosting over that invisible thing that hung there. "You…you came? You were there? But I didn't see you."

"Perhaps I didn't want to be seen. It was not the right time, nor the place. I have only ever wished for your happiness," his coal black brows creased, deepening the line etched permanently between them. "Are you happy, Hermione?"

She sat still as stone, almost stricken. A lifetime of memories washed over her; her wedding day, and night. The honeymoon and the ginger headed babies that came after. Her life, summarized in brief flickers of images that past through her hazy visions of the past. Lessons that were taught, sex that was had, children born, scrapes and cuts bandaged and lovingly kissed, hands held, deaths mourned, and overall a feeling of warmth and love that pervaded them all. There was sadness, yes, but, oh, such love and life that had been lived. It felt like hours but it was only a moment before she answered him simply: "Yes."

He smiled then, a true smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "I am glad, Hermione." He reached into his pocket and took out a handful of sickles and deposited them on the table. He rose to leave, and she felt a desperate longing surge inside of her soul as she reached out for him, her small hand grasping his larger one, their fingers colliding with an electric pulse.

"Severus!" She gasped and he stopped turning back towards her, his eyes begging her to remain silent.

"Don't. Please," his entreaty was soft and gentle, no malice in his tone. "Let's just leave it there."

"But…"

"I know, Hermione. I know." And with that he was gone, as swiftly as he'd come.

She was alone again, at the table, and when the waiter came to drop off the second beverage she politely and quickly declined, indicating with a gesture that his money was on the table. She grabbed her cloak and dashed out the door, her wild hair bouncing behind her unfettered. She emerged into the night and looked desperately around her, but there was no one about but herself and a lonely street lamp. Her guttered sob was heard only by the wind, as was the soft whisper…"I love you."

Fin

**AN: I wanted this piece to have a lot of ambiguity. I didn't want there to be clear cut explanations and plot points…just fragments, so-to-speak. It's a moment of love lost and regret, but with an overtone of hope. Hope that, even though paths meet and diverge again, it's possible that either one was right. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!**

**SS**


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